So Get This
by RosieG
Summary: When Sam loses his job, and his brother Dean breaks up with his long-time boyfriend, Sam decides it's time for some life-changing drastic measures. He opens "Profound Bond," a dating agency dedicated to helping you find your soul-mate! And when his first ever customer is the slightly odd but gorgeous Cas Novak, he thinks he may have just solved both his and Dean's problems!
1. Chapter 1

This fic was inspired by a photo-shopped picture of J2M on Tumblr. It looked like it would make a great sitcom and then this plot happened. There was an outcry for fic so here it is! The original post can be found here: post/41779652855/introducing-the-new-cw-comedy-lineup-at-8-pm-get

* * *

The lock clicked as Sam shut the door.

He look around the living room, still somewhat dazed, and it took him a moment to realize that the reason he was feeling a little lost was that he wasn't used to seeing the room with the afternoon sun streaming in through the window.

Sam sighed and tossed his keys on the coffee table, dropping his briefcase and shrugging out of his suit jacket. The jacket ended up on the back of the sofa as he made his way to his room. He could hear muffled Metallica coming from Dean's room, and he paused outside the door for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say to his brother.

"Screw it," he finally muttered, and opened the door.

Dean was lying face down on his bed, arms sprawled to either side of him. The floor was strewn with dirty laundry and empty beer bottles, and "Battery" was playing loud enough to make Sam wince. Sometimes he couldn't understand how Dean could still hear anything at all.

"Moved passed pathetic and depressed to angry now?" he yelled over the music.

Dean gave him the finger, not bothering to look up.

Sam shook his head, smiling. Then he took a deep breath and-

"Well, just thought you should know, I got fired."

That got Dean's attention. He looked up at his brother, eyes wide.

Sam just shrugged. "Yup." He turned around and headed to his room.

He heard a clamor and something crash, followed by a loud, "Fuck!" and then the music turned off and the apartment was blissfully silent for a moment.

But just for a moment.

"What the fuck happened?"

Sam sighed and turned around. Dean stood in his doorway with a three day beard and a t-shirt that had been worn at least as long as the facial hair.

"Dude, you look like shit. When's the last time you showered?"

Dean frowned. "None of your fucking business and don't try to change to subject. What the hell, man? You thought they were gonna promote you to Associate!"

"Yeah, well, I guess when a law firm is going belly-up, they want to lose all the dead weight before they jump ship."

Dean stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of Sam's bed. "Wait, what? The firm is going out of business?"

Sam rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Just found out today. Apparently, Crowley, one of the senior partners, has been embezzling company money for months. He disappeared yesterday. Probably on a beach in Tahiti by now. The firm's filing for bankruptcy."

"Jesus."

"Yeah."

Dean scratched his chin a couple of times before running his hand through his hair. "Wow, Sammy, I- I'm sorry. I don't know what to say…"

Sam huffed, shrugging. "Yeah, you and me both, man."

"So, what now? You gonna find another job?"

Sam had been asking himself that same question since he'd left the office. Did he want to start over? Because that's what would have to happen. He'd been working up to Associate for the past 4 years at his office. And coming from a firm that went bankrupt would land him at square one somewhere else. Especially since they fired him first.

"Hell if I know," he finally said. "I'm going to have to think about it." He sat heavily down on the bed next to Dean and flopped backwards, staring at the ceiling.

Dean was lying there with him a second later, arms folded under his head.

"Ok. Well, we'll figure it out. We always do."

Sam smiled for what felt like the first time that day. It was a testament to how well his brother had taken care of him that Sam believed him when he said it. Dean always figured something out, even if it took the shit out of him.

"Right."

They were quiet for a minute and then Dean said, "Wanna go get shit-faced?"

Sam considered the option for a second.

"Only if you shower first," he said wrinkling his nose.

A pillow slammed into his face a moment later.

"Bitch."

Sam laughed. "Jerk."

* * *

"Oh my God!, Is that? No! It can't be! Is that Dean Winchester?!"

Dean rolled his eyes as he walked up to the bar.

"Shut up, Jo."

"I'm sorry Dean, you'll have to speak up! It's been so long since you joined us here in the world of the living, my hearing's started to go…"

Dean snorted, stepping behind the bar to give Jo a hug. "Anyone ever tell you, you tend to exaggerate things?" he asked.

"Eh, just a little bit," Jo said, hugging Dean tightly.

Dean kissed the top of her head and stepped back, ruffling her hair. Jo scowled at him as he leaned down to open one of the fridges under the counter, pulling out two beers. He handed one to Sammy across the counter and opened the other one, taking a long pull from the bottle and looking around.

Jo had managed the place just fine, while he'd been off, it looked like. Nothing was broken, the bar was stocked, the customers seemed happy. He hadn't really been worried, but truth was, he'd never taken off more than a day before, and "The Crossroads" was pretty much his second baby, the first being his car.

Of course, at first he'd called her every day to make sure Jo kept up on the orders and paychecks, made sure she was organizing the employee schedule right. But then Jo finally told him to fuck off and let her do her job. So he did.

"Place looks good," he said, nodding in approval.

"Of course it looks good," Jo replied. "I'm amazing and I know what I'm doing. My mother taught me just as well as she taught you, Dean."

Dean held his hands up in surrender, still holding his beer. "Ok! Alright, I get it. You're awesome, you're amazing, you're the best bartender in the city, and I'm an overbearing, obsessive son of a bitch."

"Damn right you are," Jo said, smirking. Sam laughed from across the bar and Jo passed him a bowl of pretzels.

"So," she said, munching on a couple, "Sam, you gonna tell me what finally got your brother to drag his lame, self-pitying ass out of bed?"

Dean's chest constricted for a moment, but he took a deep breath and another drink. He hadn't told Jo why he was taking time off, but she wasn't an idiot. He figured she probably knew. And she was smart enough not to tell anyone about it too. Dean didn't think he'd ever live it down if anyone found out the indestructible Dean Winchester was moping pathetically over a dead relationship.

That didn't mean Jo was above poking a little fun at him herself.

Sam cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "I, uh, lost my job today."

"Oh my God, what happened?"

Dean cut in. They were here to drink and laugh and be stupid for the night, and they were going to start it off right. "Well, Sam kept hitting his head on the doorways, and he finally cracked the ceiling in the meeting room the last time he stood up, so they had to get rid of him. Moose boy here was scaring off all the clients."

Jo shook her head, smiling. "All right, Winchester, have it your way." She nodded at Sam. "Drinks are on the house," she said, winking.

Dean scowled. "Drinks are always on house, it's my friggin' bar!"

Jo just laughed and moved off to take care of customers.

Dean turned around to find Sam looking at him gratefully. "Thanks man," he said. "I'm not really in the mood to talk about it."

Dean nodded. He bent down to pull out another two beers, but when he came back up, Sam was watching him with _that face_. That 'We're about to have a meaningful conversation' face.

Dean froze. "What?"

Sam tilted his head, frowning. "Well, I mean, are _you_ ok?" he asked. "Jo's right. You haven't been to the bar in two weeks and you haven't left the apartment for days, and I know I'm Sad Sally tonight and all, but-" Dean cut him off.

"Dude, I'm fine. You and Jo are making this out to be something way bigger than it is. It's over, it's all good. I'm gonna be coming back to work tomorrow, and everything. I just needed some time to myself." Sam didn't look convinced. " For Christ's sake, I haven't taken a vacation in _ever_. Can't I take a break without the two of you going all Dr. Phil on me? Jeez, you're such a girl."

Sam threw a pretzel at him. "Okay, fine!" he said, "But for the record, I'm not the one who sleeps with guys," he continued, grinning.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he knew the topic was done with.

* * *

They spent the evening drinking and laughing and just letting the rest of the world slip away. At some point, when Dean nearly took out someone's eye, Jo took confiscated the darts .Sam thought that was hilarious and snorted beer up his nose.

It had been so long since they'd spent time, just the two of them. Sam had always been busy with one case or another, and Dean had the bar and then Nick…

Jo got them into a cab sometime around 2 am and sent them off home amidst warnings to take two Advil each before they fell asleep and to drink lots of water. Dean slurred at her that he knew how to handle himself after a night of drinking and then tripped on the curb.

They stumbled up the stairs to the apartment, giggling like little boys and shushing each other not to wake the neighbors, and when they finally got in, they both collapsed on the sofa.

Dean toed his boots off and propped his feet up on the coffee table, while Sam struggled to get his coat off. He had a confusing couple of minutes where he couldn't find the buttons before he realized it was a zipper amidst renewed waves of laughter from Dean, but at last they were both settled.

It was quiet for a while, and Sam could hear Dean's breathing begin to slow, but something had been nagging at him since earlier that evening and his brain was too fuzzy to tell him to shut up.

"Dean," he said, his voice soft in the darkness.

"Huh?"

Sam thought back over the last few months, watching his brother change, and not for the better. Tonight had been a glimpse of the old Dean he'd known, and he'd missed it.

"I hated Nick," he said. "Like, really hated him. And I hated watching what you were like with him. What you were like every time he was being his douchey self, and he was an idiot and just– like, he was so _short_, and I just-"

A snore interrupted him. "Dean?" he said, lifting his head from the back of the couch. It took a tremendous amount of effort and made him dizzy. Dean was fast asleep, snoring not-so-gently next to him. Sam knew there had been more he wanted to say, but he was just so tired. He curled up on his side of the sofa and fell asleep.

Though, the last thought he had before he passed out was that he wished he could find someone for his brother. He wished he could give something back to the person who had always made sure he had it all.

When he woke up four hours later with Dean's feet in his face , roiling nausea and a headache made worse by the fact that he couldn't turn his head to the left, he didn't remember the conversation at all. But the idea stuck with him for days, even if he didn't realize the source.

And that was how he ultimately decided what he wanted to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Guys, the response has been overwhelming! Thank you all for your support, and I hope you enjoy the new installation of "So Get This!"

This chapter contains some Hebrew. For translation, see the end of the chapter.

* * *

His cellphone wouldn't stop buzzing, and Castiel found it extremely distracting.

He was on a conference call with Tel-Aviv and Corporate in Denver, and neither seemed particularly happy at the moment.

"Look, we understand your difficulty, but we were led to believe that the new platform would be ready by July. You're telling us now that the initial projection was off by over a year? How is this the first time we're hearing about this?" Castiel frowned. Denver was _not _happy. And attacking the Tel-Aviv branch was not going to end well. Israelis got, well, _prickly_ when they felt like they were being cornered.

He was right. A moment later an annoyed voice with a heavy Israeli accent came crackling over the other end. "Sir, you are eh - right to be angry, but it is not our problem. We were telling you many times that, eh, _slicha, Castiel, ta'aseh li tova. Tagid l-bachurchik shama sh-ha-technaim sh-hem metumtamim. Im hem rotzim tozar, hem tzrichim latet mash'abim! Kamtzanim!"*_

Castiel flinched. His phone buzzed again.

"What did he say, Mr. Novak?" The company VP, Roy Welch, sounded short-tempered.

Castiel cleared his throat. "Mr. Ben-Arzi brings up a valid point. He says that the Tel-Aviv branch is understaffed, and that they have repeatedly put in a request to hire more developers. He says that they have been waiting for months and work has been delayed because of it."

Welch snorted. "We sent them some of the best developers from our branch here in Denver. Wasn't that enough for them?"

"With all due respect, Mr. Welch," Castiel began, sighing, "Mr. Ben-Arzi says that your developers are idiots."

The Denver and Tel-Aviv ends both became unintelligible for a few moments as they fell arguing, nothing coming through clearly on either end. Castiel finally got a chance to look at his phone. Surprise, who else would call four times in a row if not Gabriel? Any worries that the call might be an emergency were allayed. Still, the conference call was at a stand-still for now and Gabriel would just keep calling until he answered.

"Mr. Welch, Mr. Ben-Arzi? I suggest we take a twenty minute break and resume the discussion then. I think both parties have things they need to discuss in private before we can continue. Are we all in agreement?"

The go ahead came over on both ends and Castiel hung up with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. To be honest, he agreed with Tel-Aviv. Welch was tight with company money, but in the worst way, and if he didn't start listening to his employees, the CEO might start to wonder why productivity had gone down once Welch had been hired, and connect the dots.

Castiel's phone buzzed for the fifth time and he finally picked it up.

"What?" he said, not managing to cover up the irritation in his voice.

"Whoa, bro. What's with the hostility?" Gabriel's voice was cheerful.

Castiel thought he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. He sighed. "Nothing," he said. "Well, it's nothing you did, at least. Just an international crisis."

Gabriel laughed. "So basically, another normal day at the office."

"Yes."

"I know I say this every time we talk, but I keep hoping you'll listen to me. You need to get out more, little brother."

For once, Castiel thought he might agree with him. "Yes, I know."

"I mean, when's the last time you went out anywhere?"

He thought back and realized he couldn't remember.

"I think it may have been the family dinner last month."

"Bro, that was, like, _two_ months ago," Gabriel said, his voice dead-pan. "And family dinners don't count as _going out_. Jeez. Sometime I wonder how we're even related."

Castiel frowned. "Yes, sometimes I wonder the same thing."

"Wow, was that a joke I just heard? Maybe there's hope for you yet, young grasshopper."

"I don't understand that reference."

Gabriel snorted. "Ok, look. I'm going out tonight. A friend of mine just opened a new club downtown. You should come."

Castiel was just about ready to turn his brother down, like he always did, but then he stopped and really considered it. There was no reason not to go. And he had been feeling down lately. He hadn't been out in _months_, apparently, and the usual routine was beginning to wear him out. He generally didn't enjoy clubs, but an evening with Gabriel, if nothing else, was guaranteed to be _interesting_ at the very least.

"Alright," he said at last.

"Wait, what? Seriously?" Gabriel's voice was genuinely surprised at the other end. "Just like that? I don't have to bribe you or threaten you or anything?"

"No. I'll be there. What time and where?"

Gabriel was quiet for a second, and Castiel could hear papers being rifled through. "I can't find the deets right now. Listen, just be ready at 9 and I'll pick you up at your place, k?"

"Very well."

"Oh, and bro?"

"Yes, Gabriel."

"Don't dress like an accountant." The call ended.

Castiel frowned at his phone, his stomach sinking, He had a feeling this might end up being a terrible idea. Then again, that was usually how he felt whenever he agreed to something Gabriel suggested.

He was usually right.

Castiel glanced at the clock. He still had ten minutes before he had to deal with the Denver/Tel-Aviv conflict. Just enough time to grab some coffee and pray that the conference call would be the worst thing to happen to him today.

* * *

The club was called "The Garden". However, as hard as Castiel looked, he couldn't find a tree or a plant anywhere.

"No, man," said Gabriel's friend Josh, when Castiel asked him about it. "It's like, about the gardens of our minds, and how music makes us alive."

As hard as Castiel listened, he couldn't hear any real music either. Just thrumming and overpowering noise.

Since Gabriel was good friends with Josh, they were admitted to the VIP lounge. They sat on dark green leather sofas and a waitress brought them their drinks. Gabriel ordered a ridiculous concoction with an umbrella that likely had as much sugar as it had alcohol in it. Castiel was content with his vodka-soda.

"See, bro? This is nice, right?" Gabriel asked, slurping through his straw.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "I suppose," he said. "When you said club, I was hoping for something a little bit less-"

"Techno?" Gabriel supplied.

Castiel shrugged. "I suppose," he said. "Something a little bit quieter, with music…"

"There's music here!"

Castiel sniffed, affronted. "This is not music," he said resolutely.

Gabriel just laughed.

It was true, though. Castiel didn't mind going out. He didn't even really mind this place. It just happened so rarely. He worked hard, and he wasn't very social, which meant that unless he was specifically invited (or dragged) to an outing, he would generally just stay home. Some people took this to mean that he wasn't interested in having a good time; that he was boring. Gabriel knew him better than that, at least. Although even Gabriel underestimated him from time to time.

For instance, when his brother had shown up at his apartment this evening, he'd remarked ad nauseum on Castiel's choice of wardrobe, which was, to quote Gabriel, "unexpectedly smooth, didn't know you had it in you bro!" Castiel didn't see what was so special about dark jeans and a t-shirt, but honestly, did his brother think he'd wear a suit and trenchcoat to a club?

Despite Castiel's objections to the music, the club was well designed, the food was good, and the crowd was not too rowdy. The next two hours were spent enjoyably, meeting more of Gabriel's friends in the lounge, some of which were extremely well read and interesting. Castiel had a forty-five minute conversation with one young woman about her interest in Japanese theater and his recent business trips to Kyoto.

He was beginning to wind down for the evening when Gabriel froze across from him.

"What?" Castiel asked, watching as his brother's eyes trailed something or someone behind him. He turned to see what had attracted Gabriel's attention and caught sight of a woman as she walked up to the private VIP bar. She had long, auburn hair, delicate features, fair skin and wore a black dress with no back that fit her like a second skin.

"Ah."

"Bro, I need a wingman." Gabriel's voice was determined. His eyes hadn't left the woman.

Castiel sighed. "I was actually hoping we could leave now. It's late, I'm tired, and I have a meeting early tomorrow morning."

Gabriel finally dragged his eyes away from the woman, looking hurt. "I can't believe it. I take you out, show you a good time, get you to loosen up a bit, but I ask you for _one thing_, and you want to bail on me? Not cool, little brother."

Castiel wasn't about to bring up how much of that sentence was complete falsehood. It would take too long. Instead, he looked back towards the bar, contemplating. Gabriel didn't often react so strongly, or so openly about anyone. She had really caught his attention.

"I am going to regret this, aren't I?"

Gabriel grinned. "You're the best. Come on." He stood, brushing off his dress shirt. "Am I good?" he asked, turning slightly. Castiel made sure no untoward stains or creases marred Gabriel's clothing.

"You're fine," he said. "Oh, wait," he added, as Gabriel started to head for the bar. He pulled out a box of breath-mints from his pocket and handed one to his brother. "You've been drinking," he said by way of explanation.

"Thanks man," Gabriel said sincerely.

"And it might be best if you didn't order anything that comes with an umbrella. I've been given to understand that women frown upon that."

"Sometimes, I don't know whether you're serious or making fun of me."

Castiel just blinked. Gabriel rolled his eyes and headed for the bar.

His brother had all the finesse of a sleazy porn-star, and true to form, walked straight up to the woman and said, "Hi, I'm Gabriel, and you are the best thing I've seen all day." Castiel shook his head slightly as he sat down at the bar on Gabriel's left.

The woman barely gave either of them a cursory glance before she went back to waiting for her drink, looking definitively uninterested.

"First of all," she said, British accent clipped, the words rolling off her tongue, "I am not a _thing_, as you so deftly put it, I am a woman. I don't particularly care who you are, or what your name is, and believe me when I say, if I'm not the best _thing_ you've seen all _month_, then I will be very surprised."

Castiel leaned towards his brother. "I like her," he said, voice low. Gabriel elbowed him in the ribs.

"Well, well. You're quite a spitfire. I like that."

"That's nice," she said, sarcasm apparent.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"No."

Castiel leaned forward on the bar so he could see around Gabriel.

"Hello. I'm sorry to interrupt, but my brother is making an ass of himself. He's actually very nice when he's not trying to impress women."

Gabriel gaped at him. "Some wing man you are," he muttered.

But the woman actually looked up and smiled. "Is he?" she asked. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Castiel."

"Castiel," she repeated, tilting her head. "Angel of Thursday, am I correct?"

"'Yes. How did you-?"

"It's my business to know things." She pushed of from the bar, stepped around a flabbergasted Gabriel and moved to stand in front of Castiel instead. He turned in his chair to face her.

"You have very beautiful eyes," she told him. Gabriel made a noise that could, reasonably, be interpreted as a squeak.

"Thank you," he replied seriously.

"Are you seeing anybody?" she asked.

Castiel frowned. "Well, no, but I-"

"But you don't play for my team. Yes, I can tell."

"Then why-?"

"I represent an agency called 'Profound Bond'. We help people find that special someone that they've been missing in their lives." The woman smiled. "You should give us a try." She held out a business card.

"It's very sweet of you, trying to help your brother. I like that."

"Um, hi. I'm also really sweet. It's genetic," Gabriel finally spoke up.

"I'm afraid I'm a bit out of your league, _Gabriel_," she said, not looking away from Castiel. "But feel free to call the number on the card if you're interested in dating advice."

She leaned over past Castiel, and when she pulled back, she was holding a martini. "Good night boys," she said, and turned, walking away.

Castiel looked down at the card. "Bela Talbot," he read out loud. He turned to look at Gabriel. He had never seen his brother rendered speechless before. "I _really_ like her."

Gabriel just nodded.

"Um, sir?" the bartender said from behind them. They both turned around. The young man handed Gabriel a receipt. "The lady's bill."

"She didn't."

Castiel nodded. "She did," he said. "I really, _really_ like her."

"Shut up."

* * *

* "Excuse me, Castiel, do me a favor. Tell the little guy over there that his developers are idiots! If they want a product, they have to supply the resources! Cheapskates!"


	3. Chapter 3

I apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter out. The delay was due to some personal issues, but they have hopefully been resolved and I'll get back on track! Enjoy!

* * *

"Chuck, have you seen the stapler?" Sam called out from his office. He had been attempting to battle the paperwork on his desk for the better half of the morning and honestly, the paper was winning.

"I think Ava had it earlier," Chuck replied, voice muffled. A sudden squeal and the sound of tumbling boxes had Sam poking his head of his office a second later.

"Dude, you alright?"

Chuck was buried under about ten packing boxes.

"You know, I told you to just fold those things up when you were done unpacking them. But no. You wanted to build a tower." Sam smirked.

The boxes shook, as Chuck rummaged through them, finally poking his head out. "Hey, one of Man's most basic urges is to build and create. Don't mock my natural genetic makeup."

"I'm not. I'm mocking your natural genetic girly scream."

Chuck extracted himself from the boxes, dusting his pants off. "Um, excuse me. That was more of a manly shriek, okay?"

Sam raised his hands in front of. "Hey, man. Whatever helps you get through the day." He grinned. Chuck just narrowed his eyes and began organizing the mess, this time folding the boxes back up.

"Hey, Sam." Ava came out of the small kitchenette. "Did I hear you looking for the stapler?" She handed him the small blue object, and a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, taking the mug. "How's the filing system coming along?"

Ava shrugged. "It's a filing system. There are files. They're getting organized. It's all very technical, I don't think you'd understand."

Chuck snorted as he folded up another box.

Sam shook his head. "You know, I'm your boss. I could fire you both if I felt like it."

Chuck looked uncertain for a second but Ava just laughed. "Okay big guy, whatever you say."

Sam grinned, taking another sip of his coffee. "Fine maybe not." He looked around the room. The office was coming along really nicely. Granted, there were still a few things that needed to be done, décor-wise, but Dean was stopping by later with a whole bunch of things he'd ordered for the place. Ava had helped with that, and was setting up the organizational side of things, and Chuck was working on tech and the website. Honestly? Sam had been expecting to be in business by now. They'd taken ads out in all of the local papers, and he had one hell of a publicist. Bela Talbot definitely knew what she was doing, even if she scared the shit out of him sometimes.

And yet…

"So, Ava… No calls?"

Ava smiled, but shook her head. "Not yet."

"Right. What's taking them? Shouldn't we have had a few people get in touch by now?" He asked, impatience warring with frustration.

Ava held a hand up. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm just a secretary, not a psychic."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, yeah… Well, if anything comes up, you know where I am," he said, turning to go back into his office. "Oh, and Chuck,?" he added, looking back as he reached his door. "Have fun with your box fort."

"Really?" Chuck asked, eyes lighting up.

"No, not really. I have a box cutter. Put them away or I'll end you." He held back a laugh as Chuck's eyes widened.

The sound of Ava's laughter followed him into his office.

* * *

Castiel wasn't really sure why he was doing this.

Maybe part of it was that the woman at the club had intrigued him. Or maybe it had been Gabriel's endless nagging him about it since. His brother was desperate for another shot with Bela, but he also seemed to think it might actually be a good idea for Castiel to give it a chance.

Mostly though, Castiel suspected he was here because he was actually quite lonely.

So it was with a sigh, and the slightest sliver of hope that he pushed open the door to the offices of "Profound Bond". The sign outside proclaimed them as "Dedicated to helping you find your soul mate!" And while Castiel wasn't entirely sure he believed in soul mates, he did believe in finding someone you could trust and rely on to spend your life with. And he wanted that.

The small reception area was, for lack of a better description, actually kind of charming. The walls were painted a soft pink, and there were potted plants and flowers dotting the room and on the desk.

A petite woman sat with her back to him, bent over and rummaging through something he couldn't see. It didn't seem like she'd heard him come in.

Castiel approached the desk and cleared his throat. "Um, miss?"

The woman jumped and something clattered. "Dammit!" she exclaimed, and nearly fell off her chair. She righted herself after a moment, and turned, blushing.

"Hi, oh my God, I'm so sorry," she said, bringing a hand up to her mouth. "I, um, didn't hear you come in."

"I gathered as much."

The woman's eyes widened when he spoke. "Wow, your voice register just goes way down there, doesn't it?"

Castiel raised his eyebrows in surprise. A moment passed and then-

"Shit, I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes, you did."

"Wow, um, I am _so_ sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone and I just kind of get nervous sometimes, and then I talk and talk, and I can't always control what comes out of my mouth, actually, I usually can't, and anything can just spill out, you know? And I'm doing it right now, aren't I? Okay then, I'm going to stop. I'm Ava, welcome to Profound Bond, how can I help you?"

The conversational whiplash hit him and it took Castiel a second to catch up. The woman was blushing even harder now, but Castiel decided he liked her.

"Hello, Ava," he said at last. "I'm Castiel Novak. I was given this card," he pulled out the business card Bela had given him.

Ava seemed like she was still trying to get her blush under control, but she took the card, checking the name.

"Ah, Bela. Well, she's not in right now, but you can meet with Sam Winchester, if you'd like. He runs the agency."

Castiel considered. Half the reason he'd even come was because of Bela and if she wasn't here… He didn't really want to sit down and let a second person catalog his sad love life for reference. Bela would have been enough. On the other hand, he'd already made the trip, and Castiel was practical, if nothing else.

"Very well," he said. "I would like that."

Ava smiled. "Okay, just a sec." She pushed a button on her phone. "Mr. Winchester?"

A crackle sounded from the intercom followed by a fuzzy voice. "_Mr. Winchester? What the hell, Ava, just call me Sam._"

Ava glanced at Castiel and smiled, biting her lip. She forced a laugh and pressed the button again.

"Um, _Mr. Winchester_, we have a _client_."

A sudden yell came from somewhere down the hall, followed by a loud crash.

Ava and Castiel looked at each other.

The intercom crackled again.

"_Please send them in._"

Ava led Castiel to the office at the end of the hall and smiled as she opened the door for him.

"Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, thank you," he replied, and Ava smiled. "Okay, if you change your mind just let me know."

She went back down the hall and Castiel stepped into the office.

Sam Winchester was standing in front of his desk and Castiel's first impression of him was that he was _tall_. His second impression, as Sam stepped forward and shook his hand, smiling widely, was that he appeared to be a kind person.

"Please, sit down." He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Castiel took a seat, and then, to his surprise, Sam sat down in the other seat next to him.

"I'm Sam Winchester, I run Profound Bond."

"Castiel Novak, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Sam smiled. "So," he began, "how did you hear about us?"

"I met a woman named Bela Talbot at a club last week. She-" Castiel frowned, trying to find the words. "Well, she piqued my interest."

Sam frowned and cleared his throat. He shifted in his seat. "Bela works for us, and I don't think she's looking for a partner right now."

It took Castiel a moment to understand what Sam meant. "Oh. Oh, no. Not like that," he explained. "I'm not interested in women. No, she just seemed to understand a lot about me. I don't know how she knew that I might need a place like this, but she did."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's Bela. She's very good at what she does. Honestly, we're lucky to have her on board."

"I take it you haven't been doing this long?"

Sam shook his head. "We're pretty new, but I think we bring something to the table that most other agencies don't. We're all really invested in helping people find the one who's right for them. Everyone working at Profound Bond has been through difficult relationships, we've all been burnt somehow, but we keep on going. And we want to help others find the same happiness we'd want in our lives."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. He'd been expecting a sales-pitch, something standard, cold, impersonal, but Sam kept surprising him. He believed what Sam was telling him, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to lead him to such an unusual position. He wasn't sure how many dating agencies were run by men, much less run by men who were clearly straight. And yet, he really bought it.

Castiel cleared his throat. "Well, you seem very capable," he said, nodding. "But I do have to ask, if you've only just gotten started, how are you going to be able to help me?"

Sam grinned. "Ah. Well, Bela Talbot brought more to the agency than just her ability to pique people's interest. She was working as a freelance matchmaker, doing publicity on the side, when we found her, and we managed to convince her to sign on. She brought her client base with her."

"I see." Castiel fell silent. Curiosity was getting the better of him, and though he knew it was really none of his business, Sam Winchester intrigued him, and he truly wanted to know – "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, "but if it isn't too personal, could you tell me what led you _specifically _to open a dating agency?"

He laughed. "What, don't I seem like the matchmaking type?" Sam shook his head. "No, I guess not… Honestly? There was someone I wanted to help out. I'm not really sure if this'll do it, but I'm going to try, and in the meanwhile, I'm happy, and enjoying myself."

Castiel's brow furrowed as he considered Sam's words. He was sitting across from a man who built an entire company just for the sake of wanting to help someone dear to him. He made his decision.

"Where do I sign?" he asked.

Sam's face broke into a grin. "Well, you'll have to fill out some paperwork, first. Just standard stuff. We'll need some personal details, nothing too personal, though, and background information. Then, if everything checks out, we can get started. Although, I doubt there will be any problems. Bela has a killer instinct when it comes to people."

Castiel remembered her conversation with Gabriel and couldn't help smiling. "Yes," he said. "I got that impression as well."

Sam stood. "Let's head back out to Ava so she can get you started on that paperwork Mr. Novak."

"Please, call me Castiel."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Alright, Castiel. You fill in those forms, we'll review them and give you a call when everything's set and we're good to go."

Castiel stood and followed Sam back down the hall. But instead of Ava, there was a man standing with his back to them behind the reception desk. He was reaching above his head with a hammer in one hand and a nail positioned against the wall in the other. His jeans sat low on his hips, and his tee-shirt was riding up, showing a stretch of lightly tanned skin, and a small mole, just above the band on the left side.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, as Castiel stopped short. The man, _Dean_, turned sharply, lowering his arms, the shirt once again covering his back, but Castiel couldn't argue because he got his first look at Dean's front and he was -

He swallowed.

"Hey, Sammy." Sam had moved forward, and Castiel was effectively blocked from Dean's view.

"You didn't tell me you were stopping by."

Castiel could practically hear Dean shrug. "Yeah, well, I picked up that shipment you wanted, and figured, what the heck. Then Ava set me to work. Do me a favor, Sammy? Tell her she can ogle all she wants, but she better start paying me for all the physical labor before I decide to take my fine piece of ass elsewhere."

Sam laughed. "Dude, you should have called first."

"What? Why?"

Sam sighed and moved over, turning and gesturing towards Castiel.

Dean noticed him for the first time and the smile slipped from his face. Castiel's breath caught as the light hit Dean's eyes and he found himself drowning in green.

"Oh. Um, hi?"

"Dean, this is Castiel Novak, our first _client_." Sam rubbed his eyes. "Castiel, I'm so sorry. I know this seems really unprofessional, but this is my brother Dean. He's been helping us set up the office."

There was a scattering of freckles across Dean's nose that Castiel found absolutely fascinating. He was seconds away from leaning in for a closer look. Instead, he cleared his throat and held out his hand.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's eyes widened for a moment, but then he smiled and took Castiel's hand, gripping firmly. His skin was warm and dry, calluses rough against his own. He felt the handshake all the way up to his shoulder.

"Hi. Castiel, was it?"

Castiel nodded.

"Well, Cas, I didn't mean to intrude."

Castiel frowned for a secons at the nickname, but then shook his head. "No, that's fine. I don't think you're intruding." Dean was still holding his hand.

"That's good," Dean said, his thumb brushing lightly over his. Then he winked. "Cuz it would've been a shame missing out on those baby blues of yours."

Castiel's breath hitched and Sam barked out, "Dean!" but Dean just laughed and finally let go, stepping back.

"Fine, fine! I'm gone!" Dean grabbed a plaid shirt hanging off of Ava's chair, throwing it on and leaving the buttons undone. "Just don't forget to tell Ava what I said about my ass…" Dean grinned. He was speaking to Sam, technically, but his eyes didn't leave Castiel's as he spoke. He turned to go, and Castiel had a funny feeling Dean had known that his last comment would ensure he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes from trailing down to the man's lower anatomy on his way out.

"See you later, Sammy," Dean said, and then he was gone.

The sudden silence was tangible, and Castiel found himself staring at the door. He half hoped Dean would come bursting back in, having possibly forgotten something. The moment passed and Castiel sighed, turning to Sam.

Sam was looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. His brow was furrowed, and his mouth was turned up in the barest hint of a smile.

Castiel cleared his throat. Sam's hint became a full blown grin.

"Let's get you started on that paperwork, shall we?"

Castiel nodded and Sam went to find Ava.


	4. Chapter 4

I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, but here it is at last! Enjoy!

* * *

Sammy was happy, which made him happy. But honestly, if his brother didn't leave him the fuck alone and soon, Dean was going to shove the little bitch out the window.

"Sam, for the last time, I said no."

"Dean, can you just be reasonable for a second and listen to me?"

"I am being reasonable. I'm being _very_ reasonable. If I was being _unreasonable_, your head would be in the sink right now with your L'Oreal hair down the trash disposal!"

"Jesus, Dean! It's like you can't ever let anyone help you out!"

Dean took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head. He wasn't going to tell Sam that the only person who'd ever looked out for him was himself. That wouldn't be fair. Sam had always been there for him, even if his brother at times misunderstood exactly what it was Dean needed. It was just – this. He didn't want help with _this_.

He'd been getting over Nick just fine. Dean might be able to see why Sammy wouldn't necessarily think that was true, but just because he was quieter, just because he didn't go out as often, or stayed later at the bar or any of that, didn't mean he wasn't coping.

"Sam," he said, his voice dropping to a tone that brooked no argument, "I get it. I do. You think you know what I need, and that's great, man, really. I appreciate it and everything. But I am _not_ signing that form, and you are _not_ setting me up with some socially awkward, helpless dude who can't even get a date on his own! Now fuck off, I've got to get to the bar."

He threw on his jacket and was about head out the door when Sam's voice stopped him.

"Dean." Sam's voice was quiet pleading. And Dean hated it because he knew exactly what his brother's face would look like if he turned around. He hunched his shoulders in his coat, his instinct telling him to just let up and give Sammy whatever he wanted. But his chest tightened in protest, and he breathed through an onslaught of memories of dark hair and brown eyes, and smiles and secrets.

Fucking _secrets_…

"I can't, Sammy," he said without turning, and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

The Crossroads was busy that night, and it was exactly what Dean needed to clear his head. Jo greeted him at five o'clock as usual, bar polished to a shine as bright as her smile. Sometimes Dean suspected that The Crossroads would have run into the ground within a couple of months if Jo hadn't come around. The customers loved her. The staff loved her. Hell, _he _loved her, and he didn't even swing that way.

The bar got so loud and crowded he couldn't even think about anything other than serving the next drink and making sure all the food orders went off without a hitch. He took over in the kitchen for an hour so his grill cook could make a doctor's appointment. He broke up a fight just as it was getting started. At nine, he helped the band for the evening set up, and then took over at the bar again with the influx of customers coming in for the show. Jo shoved him up on stage to play guitar with them at some point for a couple of songs.

By twelve, the crowd was winding down, and so was he. Which meant his mind was free to wander once again.

Sam wanted him to go on file as a client at is agency. Truth be told, it just wasn't his style. Dean Winchester did not get dates through a dating agency. Dean Winchester picked people up with a smooth line, bought them a drink and then gave them the best night of their life. Then they came back begging for more.

At least, that was what the old Dean Winchester used to do. He looked around the room, taking in what was left of his clientele for the evening. There were a few good looking guys still hanging around, two of which at least, wouldn't say no to a pickup. But he couldn't rustle up enough interest to even try.

"Penny for your thoughts, Dean."

Dean froze in the middle of stacking cups and sighed. He plastered a fake smile on his face and turned around.

"Bela. What can I do for you?"

Bela Talbot was leaning on the bar, looking for all the world like she belonged there in tight jeans and a black tee shirt. Dean knew better. Bela hated his bar. She preferred high-class, snooty, modern clubs with crap music and drinks that tasted as bad as they sounded. Give him whiskey and a live band any day.

"I heard you had a busy night. Glad to hear business is going so well." _I don't understand why anyone comes here._ _I couldn't care less about this dump. I hope I don't catch anything from the commoners._

"It's great. It's too bad you don't come by more often_._" _It's none of your business. Shame you felt like you needed to show your obnoxious face here tonight. I hope you leave soon._

This was how the game went. Anyone watching would think they genuinely had nothing but well-wishes for each other.

"What brings you to The Crossroads?"

Bela pulled her keys and her phone out of her pocket and sat down. Great she wasn't going anywhere just yet.

"Well, Dean. I had a little conversation with your brother earlier."

_Fuck._

"Oh?" Dean pulled out a beer for Bela, popped the cap and set it in front of her. Bela looked down at it in distaste.

"Sorry, did you want a coaster, or like, a tea cozy or something?"

Bela frowned at him, clearly annoyed. "No, thank you. I appreciate it, but I don't drink American beer."

"Oh, didn't know that." _Yes he did_. He took the beer back and turned to get a glass, smirking.

Bela's phone vibrated on the bar. She glanced at it, rolled her eyes, and rejected the call. "As I was saying," she said, "Sam gave me a call a few hours ago and-"

"Can I get you something else, maybe?" He set the glass in front of her, only a little bit harder than he needed to. Bela winced at the sound. "I've got plenty of other drinks. Vodka? Brandy? Oh, I know! Tequila. I bet you're a tequila girl. Probably get a little wild once you've had three or four, am I right, huh?" He grinned lecherously, trying to be as obnoxious as possible.

Dean had to give her credit, she was still trying to keep her cool. "No, Dean. I don't want anything to drink. I'm fine, I just-"

"Oh. I get it." Dean nodded in understanding. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "You're off the booze and you don't want anyone to know. Good for you, really. I know how hard that can be. Can I get you a coke instead? Or actually, it's late –"

"Oh my God, Dean! Shut up!" Bela finally yelled. The bar fell silent and Bela flushed as she realized everyone was staring at her. Jo poked her head out of the back office long enough to see who had shouted. She rolled her eyes at Dean and retreated back inside. Dean smirked and raised an eyebrow.

Little by little, the noise picked up again as people went back to their drinks.

"Ugh. I spend time away from you, and I forget, for a while, how much you irritate me. But then there you are with your stupid face, and I just _hate _you."

"Aw, sweetie, I didn't realize we felt the same way."

"Fine. I'll get to the point and get out."

"Could you get out before the point? That would be better."

Bela picked up a file from the seat next to her and dropped it on the bar. "Sign these."

Dean set his jaw. "No."

Bela's phone vibrated again. She barely glanced at it this time before she hit reject. "Dean, are we really going to pretend that you aren't ultimately going to end up signing these forms anyway?"

Dean shook his head. "Who's pretending? I told Sam and I'm telling you. I don't need help dating, I don't _want_ help dating, and I _definitely _don't want to date whichever outcast dregs of society end up needing an agency to help them out!" For a second, Dean remembered bright blue eyes and a deep, gruff voice, and had a moment of doubt, but he shook it off. Winchesters were nothing if not stubborn sons of bitches.

"Dean," Bela leaned forward, narrowing her eyes, "everyone else may be tiptoeing around you, but I'm not going to. I call it as it is, and from what I see, you got hurt. Very hurt. And that's unfortunate, but it's something that happens."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Bela cut him off before he had the chance to tell her where she could shove her opinions.

"Now, honestly I don't know what happened, and I'm not going to insult the little intelligence you have by pretending to care." Dean's eye twitched. "But you're being sad and pathetic, and as much as you irritate me, I enjoy putting you down more when I don't feel like I'm offending a kicked puppy. Your brother loves you, God only knows why, and he started an entire company to show it. Get off your high horse, grow a pair, and _sign the damned papers_."

Dean glared at her and Bela glared back, giving as good as she got.

The phone vibrated again.

"Jesus! Who keeps calling you?" Dean exclaimed, reaching for the phone. Bela scrambled to grab it first, but not before Dean caught a glimpse of the screen.

"Who's Gabriel?"

Bela frowned. "No one of consequence. Are you going to sign the papers, Dean, or do I have to call Ellen?"

"Ha! You wouldn't. Who's Gabriel, Bela?"

"I would, and it's none of your business."

Dean narrowed his eyes. Bela was flustered, no doubt about it.

"Bela, do you have a _boyfriend_?"

Dean could actually see Bela clench her jaw. "No. He's just an idiot I met at a club who managed to get my number. He's not in my league."

"_You're league_." Dean shook his head. "You know what one of your problems is, Bela?"

"_One_ of?" Bela asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, because you're a disaster, and I'm not getting into it. But _one _of you problems is that you think you're better than everyone else, when really, you're just slugging through life like the rest of us. You want me to sign these papers so bad, to give everyone a fair shot, but you won't give this guy the time of day. You won't put your money where your mouth is. Why should I?"

Bela was silent, and in the interim, her phone vibrated again.

"Answer the phone, Bela," Dean said. "Answer, the phone and ask him out." Bela pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Do it, and I'll sign the damned forms."

The phone continued vibrating. Bela frowned. "Fine, I'll call him later."

"No, you'll answer the phone _now_, or no deal."

"Are you serious? You're going to make me answer while you're here?"

Dean just waited quietly until Bela sighed and picked up the phone as though it had the plague.

"_What?!_"

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Bela clenched her jaw.

"Sorry," she amended. "Hello, Gabriel. What can I do for you?"

Dean couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but Gabriel said something that made Bela sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose. "Yes. Yes, I agree that would be very interesting and _exotic_," she said and Dean choked back a laugh, "though somewhat inappropriate for a first date, wouldn't you say?" Bela looked up at Dean, mouthed, "I hate you," and finally said into the phone, "How about we have dinner instead? I think I may have misjudged you back at the club. I'd like to get to know you better." Bela waited and then frowned.

"Hello? Gabriel?"

Dean heard a murmur on the other end of the line and then Bela _blushed_. "Oh. Well, thank you. Yes. Yes, I'm looking forward to it as well. Yes. Alright. Friday at eight. Okay. Bye." She hung up and frowned at the phone in her hand.

"Bela? What?'

Dean's voice seemed to shake her out of her thoughts and she spun on him. "I did my part; now sign the papers so I don't have to look at you anymore."

She was still angry but she seemed off – like her balance had been shaken. Dean shrugged.

"A deal is a deal." He grabbed the folder and a pen from next to the register and started going through the pages, signing at the bottom of each one. All the details had already been filled out for him. "Sammy, you little bitch," he murmured under his breath.

When he was done, Bela took the folder back and checked that everything was in order. "Okay, fine," she said, flipping it shut. She grabbed her things and turned to leave.

"What, no goodbye?"

"_Vouz pouvez prendre votre au revoir et le pousser dans le cul!_" Bela said has she walked away, and then she was out the door.

Dean didn't know what she had said, but he could take a guess. And if she thought telling him to shove it in French kept her classy, well…

Whatever helped her sleep at night.

* * *

Bela unlocked her Audi, the chirp resonating in the night air. She slid in to the front seat and pulled out her phone, hitting 4 on her speed-dial. Sam answered on the third ring.

"Hey Bela, how did it go?"

Bela laughed darkly, glancing at the folder on the passenger seat. "Like pulling teeth. I got it though."

"You're amazing! I really appreciate it."

Bela thought back to Dean's expression when she'd laid into him. "Sam… I'm not sure if you're doing the right thing here. I don't think Dean will give anyone you set him up with a chance in hell. He'll come in with his mind made up before he even meets them." Bela paused, considering whether to continue. She decided to throw caution to the wind. "And don't you dare ever tell him I said this, but I think he _does_ need someone, very badly. You have to be careful with him, Sam. He's shattering."

Sam sighed. "I know. And believe me, I know that the usual approach isn't going to work here." She could hear a shift in Sam's voice and knew he was smiling. "But I've got a plan."

"A _plan_." She wasn't impressed.

"Yes, and shut up. I just needed those signatures to make sure it was all legal."

"That is the opposite of comforting, but all right." Bela shrugged. "Give me the details, if you're willing to share."

"Sure. Come in early tomorrow and I'll tell you all about it. You get the coffee. For now, though, it's late. You should get some sleep."

Bela laughed. "Are you joking? My evening's just getting started. I have places to be, people to impress. I'll see you tomorrow, though."

Sam laughed and she could picture him shaking that shaggy head of his. "Okay, see you then. Have fun." The phone clicked as Sam hung up.

Bela started her car and pulled out of her spot. The club she was going to was nearby. She hoped the music would manage to distract her - keep from thinking about what she'd agreed to tonight. But that phone call in the bar kept running though her mind. She'd expected vulgarity, crudeness from Gabriel, and he hadn't disappointed. But after his initial joke about _what she could do for him_, after she'd actually asked him out, all he'd had to say was-

_"Yes, I'd like that. Thank you for giving me chance. You're even more beautiful than I first thought you were."_

Maybe Friday wouldn't be that bad.


End file.
